


This Is the Way

by FictionLover007



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23220526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionLover007/pseuds/FictionLover007
Summary: As many have learned throughout the galaxy, the Mandalorian in black is a harbinger of captivity. If he comes for you, he will find you. This is only part of his legendary reputation as one of the most feared bounty hunters in all of the known systems, and yet somehow, he has acquired...a child?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	This Is the Way

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the bat and the birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095762) by [AlmondRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmondRose/pseuds/AlmondRose). 



> There is a companion art piece to this fic which you can find on tumblr under the same URL, please leave a kudos or a comment, and let me know what you think!

It was a quiet night in the Iceberg Lounge, which was typical when the boss was in police custody. Most of the Penguin’s employees were playing cards, as there wasn’t much to do, and the only person doing any work was Frank, the bartender. That was why everyone was caught off guard when a lone figure walked into the bar, his matte black armor instantly recognizable to every soul in the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and a few of the less-hardened criminals in the place flinched. One flinched hard enough to jolt the table, and it just so happened that the drink of one particularly brazen criminal enforcer tipped and spilled. The enforcer did not take kindly to the interruption, and stood, stalking over to the intruder.

“You spilled my drink, Bat.” The man in black did not respond. He stood, menacingly calm in the doorway. The enforcer did not like being ignored and made to grab the intruder's neck. “I’m talkin’ to you, Bat...ack!” Faster than the average human eye could follow, the man in black reached up and clenched his hand around the enforcer’s neck. Without even moving another limb, the Bat crushed the man’s windpipe, causing him to internally hemorrhage and choke to death. As the body dropped to the floor, others stood up intending to face down their intruder, and Frank, the bartender, ducked down, knowing what was about to happen.

Sounds of metal meeting flesh reverberated around the room, and cries of pain fell silent as the man in black methodically and brutally disabled each person to confront him. Frank squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that he would be spared from the Dark Knight’s path, but it was not to be. A fist intertwined into Frank’s shirt and physically dragged him out from behind the bar, and the man was brought face to face with the intimidating white eyes of the fearsome intruder.

“P-p-pl-please, don’t hurt me. I-I have money, do you want money? No? Wha-wh-wh-what do you w-want?” Frank stammers our, his feet toeing the floor trying to get purchase.

The Bat didn’t say a word, only slamming down a circular device on the bar next to Frank. Side-eyeing the device, Frank recognizes the technology. “I-is th-a-that a b-b-bounty puck? Y-you’re a bounty hunter? Of course, you’re a bounty hunter. You’re a Mandalorian. B-but why...”

The puck’s hologram activated, and a rendering of Frank’s face was projected above it, with a tag line stating that he was wanted by G’tham jurisdiction for 200,000 credits on suspicion of tax evasion.

“Oh. Tha-that’s me. Well. That must be a mistake. You see, I have money...”

“Stop. Talking.” The Bat’s graveling voice was modulated under the mask, but his tone was unmistakable. Frank would be given more quarter if he tried to resist. “You have two options. I can bring you in warm. Or I can bring you in cold. I know which I would prefer.” Frank gulped, and submitted to his captor, and limply cooperated as he was dragged out of the bar over the bodies that littered the floor.

* * *

As Batman shoved the wanted man into his vehicle, he noted the droid that was loitering nearby. A service droid that was simply looking for purpose. Batman growled at the sentient machine, but it was undeterred. It approached the car, intending to start cleaning it, and Bruce withdrew his blaster from the armored belt around his waist and shot the droid, watching it's now useless husk fall to the ground steaming.

Frank watched his captor interact with the droid and flinched as the energy pulse penetrated the metal, imagining the same weapon being fired in his direction. It was then the crackle of a microphone echoed around the alley in which the car was parked, and the haunting chuckle of an amplified voice sounded. Frank froze, and Batman entered the vehicle, also having heard the laughter.

“Go. Go. Go. GO!” Frank urged as the cruiser took off, desperate to get away from the unseen threat. As Batman sped away, Frank looked around the vehicle’s interior. It was a small ship, designed for short system jumps, and meant to only fit at most three passengers. But the ship had been heavily modified, and Frank could see the full arsenal of weapons that the Bat had at his disposal—reaching out to touch a plate covered in unusually shaped shuriken, only to have his wrist grabbed. Frank hasn’t even noticed the Bat putting the ship on autopilot and moving towards him.

The Bat did not release Frank’s wrist, and Frank’s instinct told him to run. But there was nowhere to run to. “So...” Frank tried to make conversation in an attempt to keep himself alive. “Is it true that you guys never take off your helmets?” The Bat did not answer, and instead forced the man against a wall, and wrestled his arms into restraints. Frank struggled, terrified, and shivered as a mask was forced onto his face. An unknown gas filled his lungs, and as Frank’s vision went dark, he could see the Bat’s silhouette retreat back to the pilot’s chair, unconcerned with the state of his bounty.

* * *

It was on the planet of Ar-k’ham, a desolate sand planet that attracted the biggest criminals of the known systems that the ship made its descent, and a man in official clothes greeted the vessel on the landing pad. The unconscious prisoner was escorted off, and the Bat approached the official. Lucius Fox smiles, happy to see that the bounty hunter was successful.

“That was fast. Here is your payment as agreed.” Lucius held out a hand with two transfer chips. The Bat did not take the money.

“Those are Court credits.” Lucius flinched.

“They still spend.”

“I don’t know if you heard, but the Court of Owls is gone.” A slight growl was heard in the Bat’s tone.

“It’s all I have.”

“Save the theatrics.” The Bat’s body language became more and more threatening.

“Fine. I can do Oa rings. But I can only pay half.”

Unhappy, the Bat nodded, agreeing to the compromise. Green rings were produced from Lucius’s robe and exchanged, and then three bounty pucks were produced. “Now, I would assume you want your next job.”

The Bat nodded and made to take all three pucks, but Lucius held them all out of reach. “There are other members of the guild. I can only give you one.”

“Then give me the one that has the highest bounty.” The Bat growled.

Selecting one out of the bunch, Lucius held up the puck and activated the hologram. A woman, with green flesh and red hair was shown, designated with the name “Poison Ivy” and a bounty of 5,000 credits.

“5,000? That won’t even pay for fuel nowadays. Why is it so slow?”

“It’s not slow at all; in fact, we’re rather busy. It’s that clients don’t want to pay guild rates.”

“Hmmm.” The Bat’s modulated voice expressed immense displeasure. Slowly, an idea came to Lucius’s mind.

“There is one job.”

The Bat’s attention was caught. “Let’s see the puck.”

“No puck,” Lucius explained. “Face to face. Direct commission. Deep pockets, my guess is underworld. Do you want it?”

There was no need to ask that question.

* * *

As the bat stood outside a decrypt house on the outskirts of the central city, Bruce noticed the slight rattle of his pauldron, which had taken some damage during the fight at the Iceberg Lounge.

The door opened, and the Bat walked inside, instantly on alert when he recognized two individuals in white masks. A third man who had no mask was sat behind a desk.

“Lucius Fox said you were coming. He said you were the best in the parsec. I shouldn’t be surprised, given your legendary origin.”

Before the client could even introduce himself, a side door opened, and a man stormed in. Slightly startled, Bruce drew his weapon, and the Talons drew theirs. The client stood and held up his hands to placate the Bat. “Wait. Freeze. Please excuse Doctor Haly. He did not mean to alarm. Please, sit.” The Bat did not sit, nor lower his weapons.

“I-I am sorry.” The new man was unnerved for a moment before turning to the client. The client scowled and said, “His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion I’m afraid. Please lower your blaster.”

“Have them lower their swords first.” The Bat cocked his head towards the Talon standing behind him. The Talon scoffed. “We have you four to one.”

Had any part of the Bat’s face been visible to anyone in the room, they would have seen a small smirk grace the bounty hunter’s lips. “I like those odds.”

The client nodded, and the Talons stowed their weapons, clearly unhappy with the order. “Lucius said you were expensive. Very expensive. If you sit, I can show you what I will pay you.”

Bruce sat and watched the client produce two bars of beskar metal from underneath the desk. The client handed them to Bruce, and he thoroughly inspected the metal, running the pad of his thumb over the impressed Court insignia on the steel.

“As you can see, it is real. This is only a down payment. Should you deliver the bounty, I have 28 more bars to return to the ancestral artists of the beskar metal.”

“Alive?”

The client was caught off guard for a moment. “The asset, yes. We would like it alive. That being said, I am aware that bounty hunting is a complicated profession, and should something happen, proof of termination would also be required.”

The doctor, Haly, looked at the client in alarm. “Wait, that is not what we agreed upon.”

The client scowled at the doctor. “I am simply being pragmatic. But if the Mandalorian is as good as the legends say, then I am sure preferred delivery would not be a problem.”

The Bat nodded. “Let’s see the puck.”

The client sucked in his cheeks and thinned his lips. “I am afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. I can only give you a tracking fob and the last four digits of the chain code.”

“Their age? You can only give me their age?”

“Yes. They are 80 years old. And their last reported positional data is at this location…” The client handed over a datapad, which the Bat took, and with that, the client motioned for their meeting to be over and turned to Doctor Haly with a look of displeasure on his face. Haly gulped and wrung his hands, glancing over towards where the bounty hunter wa…should have been sitting. He was gone. The Talons, too, noticed the hunter’s abrupt and silent exit, and the client raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed.

“I apologize for interrupting Admiral Zucco. I just want to emphasize that the Parliament is eager to bring the subject into their fold.”

The former Court admiral scowled and nodded. “I am aware of that Doctor. But I am also aware of the Parliament’s desire to remain under the radar. There are many who are under the impression that the Court has lost its power. That is our advantage, and we shall use it.”

* * *

The Mandalorian in black armor was not an uncommon sight in the streets of Ar-k’ham. He was noticeable, of course, and yet no one seemed to see him come or go. But come and go he did, and today he was going to the entrance of his tribe’s resting place, hidden in the complex sewer system of Ar-k’ham’s main capitol. As he walked through the familiar tunnels, Bruce thought back to his interaction with the client. The man was a former Court official, and as much as the rebellion had wanted to dismantle the Court at every level, they were naïve to think that they hadn’t missed several members of authority.

It was this that was running through Bruce’s head as he approached the Armorer, a man who had been a significant influence in Bruce’s life. The same Mandalorian to rescue him the day of his parent’s deaths, having raised him as a foundling. Bruce had only ever seen his face once and had been surprised to know that it was kind, even if it was slightly wrinkled with age. The Armorer acknowledged him with a nod, and from his belt, Bruce produced the beskar.

There was no reaction, as the Armorer inspected the metal. Finally, he spoke. “It is good to restore the natural order of things. This was gathered in the Great Purge.”

“It is good that it is back with the tribe.”

“Hmm. A pauldron would be in order.” The Armorer cast a critical eye at the state of the Bat’s armor, noticing the scratches, dents, holes, and blaster marks. The Bat nodded in slight shame. He was not one to neglect his armor, but the wear and tear frequently occurred in his line of work. “Has your secondary signet been revealed?”

“Not yet.” The primary signet was emblazoned on the chest plate of his armor, the grooved metal arching into adjoining points, forming a stylized interpretation of the Bat, a winged animal, known for its stealth and unique hunting abilities. But the secondary signet was usually found during the Mandalorian’s period of adulthood. Fighters they were first, but it was the expected prerogative of a Mandalorian to take to a clan, or family at some point, and adopt a symbol of said clan.

“Soon, I would hope. This is extremely generous.”

“The excess will sponsor many foundlings,” Bruce said, memories of his own upbringing coming to mind. The Armorer knew the significance of Bruce’s words and nodded, and began the forging process to produce the pauldron.

As the mechanized hammer struck the metal, and sparks flew, Bruce thought back to the encounters that his home had had with the Court, and the day he lost his parents. The day that would become a Mandalorian, a hunter…a killer.

As the pauldron was finished and fixed to the underlying skeleton of his body armor, Bruce nodded in thanks to the Armorer, who nodded in turn before moving away to tidy the workspace. Green light flooded the room as tools were placed into the glowing liquid, the Armorer used to clean the equipment, and when the man’s back was turned, Bruce made his exit. As he walked through the tunnels back to his vehicle, the new pauldron caught the eyes of other Mandalorians in the tribe. One, in particular, stood apart, in a similar black armor of her own, with tasteful red plates, marking her own identity. To the rest of the Tribe, she was known only as Daughter, because of her biological relation to the Armorer, who led the tribe, but Bruce knew her name. Talia. As Bruce walked past Talia, despite both of them wearing their helmets, their eyes met, and they nodded in courteous respect, before departing.

It took Bruce two whole days to reach the planet with the location of his target, and as usual, when he landed, he paid little attention to the surroundings for any reason other than a tactical standpoint. But it was when he got off of the vessel he found himself face to face with an older man, clad in dark grey, wisps of grey hair on his head, and a staff strapped to his back. The man regarded Bruce’s appearance coolly, and Bruce did the same to him. They stood there for a moment before the man spoke.

“You are a bounty hunter.” Seeing no point in lying to the man, Bruce nodded. “Good,” the man continued. “I will help you.”

Before Bruce could protest, the man walked away, and for a moment, Bruce was tempted to ignore the man’s actions. However, the man returned, having retrieved something. Holding out a sack, Bruce took the bag from him, and looked inside, raising an eyebrow in surprise at the contents.

“You are not the first. Many have passed through; they seek the same one as you.”

“Did you help them?” Bruce asked, suspicious.

“Yes. They died.”

“Well, then, I don’t know if I want your help.” Bruce handed him back the bag, which was full of dozens of tracking fobs, just like the one that Bruce had in his own belt.

“You do. I can show you the encampment.”

“What’s your cut?” Bruce said resignedly.

“Half.” That made Bruce’s head snap.

“Half the bounty, to GUIDE? That seems steep.”

“No.” The man shook his head, a smile playing on his face. “Half of the blurrg you help capture?”

“The blurrg?” Bruce asked, confused, thinking of the animal that came to mind, a slow four-legged animal that was known for being temperamental. “You can keep them both.”

“No. You will need one to ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

Bruce scoffed internally but accepted the man’s method. “I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

The man smiled. “Then, this should be interesting.” Before Bruce could protest, the man held up his hands. “I have spoken. Come.”

With that, the man walked off, and Bruce found himself following, even if he wasn’t sure why.

* * *

As Bruce was tossed into the mud for a third time by the animal he was trying to mount, Bruce found that he was seriously considering trying to get to the asset without the mount. The man chuckled at Bruce’s misfortunate attempt, and said: “Perhaps if you removed your helmet?”

From under said helmet, Bruce shot the man a glare and then redirected it towards the bluurg. Brushing his fingers over the mounted flamethrower on his bracer, Bruce grumbled: “Perhaps I could roast him instead of ride him?”

The man shook his head in amusement. “This is a female; the males are all eaten during mating.”

Bruce tried once more to climb on the bluurg’s back, and once more was thrown off in a short period. “I don’t have time for this. Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

This time, the man shook his head in anger and disappointment. “No! You are a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur!”

“I am not them, and I hope you aren’t wasting my time because of some preconceived notion about inheriting greatness.”

“No, I am not. You are wasting time by having this conversation. The terrain to the area of your target is incredibly unstable, and would not suit a landspeeder at all. You cannot manage on foot, for you will surely fall and die, like many of those who came before you. But the bluurg, this is the planet where these animals were domesticated! They can navigate this landscape without trouble, and therefore, are your best, and frankly, the only option. So surely, you can ride this young foal.”

The man’s reasoning was sound enough, and Bruce sighed. Redirecting his attention back to the bluurg, who was watching him warily, Bruce tried a different approach. Walking towards the animal slowly, coming at her from the front, with his palms raised, Bruce whispered reassurances to her. The muddy ground was slippery, and the bluurg pawed at it, trying to get around him, but Bruce drew her attention. “Easy,” Bruce whispered and tried his best to make eye contact. The skittish animal watched him, and slowly, Bruce placed his gloved hand on her nose, allowing her to get used to him. She let him move around to her side, and he patted her head as he mounted her back, doing his best not to jostle her. When she didn’t immediately try to buck him off, Bruce allowed himself a small smile and breath of relief. The man nodded at Bruce and walked off to mount his own bluurg, to lead Bruce towards his goal.

As they traveled through the canyons and terrain, Bruce silently, but grudgingly admitted that the man was correct and that it would have been impossible to walk along the ground. It was hours later that they came across a compound that was heavily fortified. A sense of apprehension welled within Bruce, and he groaned internally, knowing what the man was about to tell him.

“You will find your quarry in there.” The man pointed to one of the central buildings.

Reaching into his pocket, Bruce produced some of the Oa rings that he had been paid on his last job. “Please, take these.”

The man refused. “No. I only ask that you take your bounty, and leave this planet. Since these ones arrived, there has been chaos on this world. An endless stream of mercenaries, hired guns, and criminals seeking fortune or reward have come and brought destruction to this once peaceful planet. They do not belong here. I, and many others, came here to get away from the war, but by coming here, they are dragging the entire planet into their conflict. There will be no peace, not until they leave. That is why I helped those that came before you. That’s why I’m helping you now. And since you are a Mandalorian…well, I’ve heard the stories. If they are true, then there will indeed, again, be peace.”

Bruce let out a soft breath, not sure what to say. But before he could respond, the man waved his hand and said, “I have spoken. Now, go. Prepare.” With that, the man pulled on the reins of the bluurg he rode, and turned around, leaving Bruce to his mission, and as the sun beat down overhead, Bruce could definitely feel the heat on his shoulders.


End file.
